


One Night Stand

by Fixy



Series: If it pleases the Court... [3]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Back in QPQ land???, Barry - Freeform, Costumes, Eve loves fangs, F/F, Gemma throws a partay, Glitter, Halloween party!!, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Smut, Villanelle loves winning, and I love tags, cats and vampires and skeletons oh my, let’s get mildly spooky and by spooky I mean spoopy, lol I love how it made Barry a freeform tag?? Apparently he’s from the arrow universe, nail glue, oh and say hello to a new (familiar) character, ok, sweet sweet Barry, this is incredibly late but, twilight - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fixy/pseuds/Fixy
Summary: A Halloween costume competition brings out sides in both Eve and Villanelle that are completely unsurprising to everyone involved.OrThe prequel to my non-existent fic ‘how to get nail glue off tooth enamel’
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Series: If it pleases the Court... [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998886
Comments: 45
Kudos: 285





	One Night Stand

**Author's Note:**

> It’s my birthday! Have a present.
> 
> And to those that decided to jump in on my villanugo DREAM fic, yes, D R E A M fic, and be annoying: this ain’t for you!

Gemma’s house is  _ not _ Eve’s favorite place. 

It is strange to have that opinion at all, considering their history. To know of each room in Gemma’s house, to have been here numerous times, both alone and with Villanelle, is odd enough to even begin to think about, but it is what it is. Resolved problems.  _ Friendship _ . Overcoming hurdles. Ignoring… ex-mistress titles? Whatever. They’re friends now. Gemma makes a mean sponge cake. 

Anyway, the house is cute and quaint and just the slightest bit twee, which is everything Eve finds boring and somewhat off-putting. 

There is of course the fact that Niko likely spent a lot of time here while he was married to her, which is weird and, frankly, gross. Nowadays she gets smooth curves and silky pale skin, and she’d like to not have the intrusive thought of Niko’s hairy chest strike whenever she lays eyes on Gemma’s furniture. 

Gemma assured her they’d never had ‘ess ee ex’, as she’d put it, anywhere but the bed, which Eve believes because… well, it’s  _ Gemma _ , but she can’t help the thoughts that sneak in nonetheless. 

Tonight though, Eve is able to push that aside because Gemma’s house is completely covered in the tackiest, cheapest Halloween decorations Eve has ever had the delight of seeing. 

Eve  _ loves _ cheap shit. 

It’s been so long since she’s been able to indulge in the joy of Poundland, with Villanelle refusing to have anything new but cheap on display in their home. Old but cheap is fine; if it’s come with attachments or fondness from Eve, then it’s allowed to be out and proud on shelves or walls or wherever, as long as it can slot in at least sort of aesthetically with the rest of the room. 

It hardly ever does, but Villanelle lets it go every time. It’s all for fun, anyway.  _ ‘As long as I have you, I do not care’  _ Villanelle said once, and Eve laughed at her, kissed her, and told her she was an embarrassment to the scary lawyer image. 

Gemma’s walls are draped in fake spider webs that look particularly sticky, hanging from photo frames and bookshelves and light fittings alongside polystyrene bats dangling on elastic. She has switched out her lightbulbs for faintly red ones, casting everything in an ominous glow, and she’s placed the crappiest witch, skeleton and tombstone figures in every corner of each room. 

The coffee table and side tables are covered in paper bowls and plates stacked high with snacks, all spooky themed, ranging from green popcorn that makes Eve feel a little weird to a pile of blood red spaghetti, which… makes no sense, in the middle of a party. 

But Eve admires the dedication. 

“Where’s Villanelle?”

Gemma appears from the red gloom with two glasses of wine and a curious glance over Eve’s shoulder. She’s wearing a short black velvet cocktail dress with a snug bodice that shows off Gemma’s tits in a way Eve knows now as Gemma’s thing.  _ ‘If you’ve got it, flaunt it’  _ Gemma once said after a few drinks, and flaunt it she does. She’s paired the dress with long black gloves and fluffy black and pink cat ears, finished with a pink nose and whiskers carefully painted on her face. It’s literally the most basic costume, but Eve has to admit it’s the perfect blend of sweet and sexy for Gemma. 

Eve’s own outfit definitely leans more towards sexy, something she hadn’t anticipated when she clicked on the Facebook ad. 

Eve takes the wine from Gemma with a small shrug. “Should be here any minute.” She says. 

“Why couldn’t she meet you from work?” Gemma asks, sipping as she smiles distractedly at someone else in the crowded room. 

“She said it would ruin the effect.” Eve says. “Plus, by the time I’d finished she still wasn’t ready.”

“What is she coming as?” Gemma widens her eyes. “Oh my gosh, will it match your costume?”

“Ha, no.” Eve scoffs. “And I have no idea, she wouldn’t tell me. It’s a ‘surprise’.”

“Well whatever it is, I’m sure she’ll look fantastic.” Gemma says quickly, a little high pitched. “Maybe even as good as you! Are- are you an astronaut? Because you look out of this world!”

Gemma finishes it with a nervous giggle as Eve stares at her in confusion before looking down at herself. 

“No, I’m a skeleton.”

“I-” Eve watches as Gemma bites her lips together awkwardly. “Yes.”

Gemma’s eyes dip to Eve’s costume for a moment before they snap back up to Eve again, cheeks a little pink as she smiles too wide. 

“Anyway, I’m going to say hi to- oh, my god…”

Gemma’s gaze is fixed over Eve’s shoulder, mouth agape as she stares at whoever just came in. Gemma is looking more and more excited by the millisecond, so Eve turns to see which random man has walked in no doubt dressed like a half-naked Tarzan. 

It is not a half-naked Tarzan. 

“Holy shit.” 

Eve doesn’t know whether to laugh or… yeah. 

It’s Villanelle. Of course it’s Villanelle. But she’s…  _ sparkly _ . 

“Eve,” Gemma starts, voice giddy, “is Villanelle dressed as a… Twilight vampire?”

“Yes, Gemma,” Eve manages weakly, “yes she is.”

“Oh my god, I bloody loved those films! I had no idea she was a Twihard! I wonder if she’s team Jacob or team Edward?”

“She’s not. And she’s neither.”

“Then why-”

And Villanelle is finally looking over at Eve. 

“I’ll talk to you later, Gem.” Eve says distractedly, leaving the other woman bouncing on her toes as she heads towards her girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. Fifteen-ish months and the word still seems foreign to her, this wonderful, exciting thing that she somehow gets to have for her own.

They’ve been living together for almost a year, learning each other’s quirks and tics, dealing with Eve’s inability to put mugs and glasses in the dishwasher, learning to accept Villanelle’s insistence on having various scented candles lit at all times. Almost a year of Eve singing, almost a year of Villanelle cooking, almost a year of silly bickering over dumb things that almost always ends in cuddles on the couch, and only the occasional stubborn silence that never lasts long. 

Niko and the divorce are far behind them, not even a spoken topic, just something in Eve’s past that Villanelle everyday makes seem more and more insignificant. Lingering trauma can’t be easily erased, of course, but with Villanelle, it’s not so hard to heal from it. 

The woman in question doesn’t look like the type to  _ heal _ right now though, striding towards her with an arrogant gait and slight smirk on her lips. 

Villanelle is dressed in clothes Eve has never seen before; she’d  _ remember _ this outfit. Perfectly tailored cigarette trousers in black, high-waisted and belted with a white sleeveless shirt tucked in neatly. The shirt is unbuttoned to reveal more than enough cleavage to draw the eye, those two moles Eve loves to kiss on display. On her wrists sit loose white shirt cuffs with chained cufflinks, gold rings on her fingers catching the red light in a sinister sparkle. Her blonde hair is down and wavy, framing her face which looks sharper than usual, light makeup lending her cheekbones a razor-like finish, and her eyes… red contact lenses, dark smoky shadow.

When she smiles, her top incisors end in small, sharp points. 

And god, she is glowing. 

No but like,  _ literally _ glowing. 

Villanelle’s skin shimmers, the light bouncing off her in glittering fragments like shattered glass. Each infinitesimal movement brings forth a new angle for the red haze to catch, and her smooth steps across the room look almost ethereal in the accompanying sparkle. 

It takes a stunted moment for Eve to realise Villanelle has stopped a couple of metres away, staring Eve up and down with a slow and heady drag of her eyes. Eve presses a hand to her stomach, the tight black material against her palm serving as a reminder of her own costume. 

The space between them closes. 

“Eve, love,” Villanelle murmurs with a smile, “Do I not feed you enough?” She reaches long fingers out to pluck gently at the material by her hip. “You are skin and bones.”

Eve rolls her eyes at the pun. Her own costume, a last minute purchase after it caught her eye on a Facebook ad for only £15, is even more simple than her original very lazy plan of a werewolf. A ripped t-shift, some fuzzy brown ears and some old brown eyeshadow on her nose and she’d have been set for a costume, just about passing Gemma’s  _ you must dress up _ rule. Anyone who failed to turn up in true Halloween spirit would have to delve into the woman’s ‘costume bag’ at the door, full of outfits that Eve assumed she would not have the tits for. 

But Eve’s costume fit the bill,  _ and _ fit her. A skin tight full body jumpsuit in stretchy black material, printed on the front and back with the white bones of a skeleton. Simple, subtle, and unintentionally sexy. She hollowed her cheeks and eyes with black kohl then used white face paint to add a few little bone-like details to her face, and she was done. A skeleton. 

A skeleton and her… blockbuster glittering vampire. 

Eve slides a little closer to the blonde, her fingers tracing the edge of a white button near Villanelle’s open collar. 

“Ha ha,” Eve deadpans 

“Because you are a skeleton.” Villanelle supplies helpfully. “And skeletons are just bones.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, I got it.” Eve gives her a look. “So, anyway… do you like it?”

Villanelle smiles wider, wrapping her arm around Eve’s waist and tugging softly until they touch in the middle. 

“I love it.” Villanelle tells her. “You are a very sexy skeleton. Your costume is almost as sexy as mine.”

“Almost?”

Eve leans back to frown playfully at Villanelle, one hand pressed against her white shirt while the other still clutches her wine between them as Villanelle’s arm around her tightens. Villanelle shrugs casually. 

“Eve, I am a Twilight character. You cannot stand there and tell me this is not the sexiest thing you have seen. You told me you think vampires are hot.” She leans down, her lips brushing gently against Eve’s ear. “Do you not think I look hot?”

Eve feels a shiver between her shoulder blades. 

“You know I think you look hot.” Eve mumbles back. “You are such a sneak, dressing up like that.”

Villanelle chuckles, snaking her other hand up and into Eve’s loose curls, holding her there softly. 

“Why am I a sneak?”

“Because-” Eve starts before huffing, “because, you dick, you know what you in a suit does to me on the best of days. And now you’re a suited sparkling vampire? Come on.”

Villanelle laughs quietly as she pulls back, her hand sliding to rest against Eve’s neck and the arm around her waist loosening slightly. 

“I could not resist.” She tells Eve with a grin. “And after seeing your reaction, I know I will win the costume contest for sure.”

Eve scoffs and pulls back fully, letting Villanelle’s hand slide to rest on her hip as her own hand drops to a belt loop, keeping the contact. 

“What makes you so sure you’ll win?” Eve asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“Um,” Villanelle waves a hand down at herself, “because?”

“Well, I might win.” Eve declares. “You said I look sexy. Plus, Gemma said I look out of this world.”

“Yes, but we’ve talked about that.” Villanelle nods her head in Gemma’s direction, where the brunette stands chatting to a man who is for some reason dressed as Santa. “Gemma likes you. Like,  _ like _ likes you.”

“Oh for-” Eve starts, rolling her eyes goodnaturedly, “Gemma does not ‘like like’ me.” She looks over at the woman in question only to find her staring back, suddenly waving at Eve from only three metres away. Jesus. Eve turns back and ignores Villanelle’s smug look. “Anyway, who says  _ ‘like _ like’ anymore? We’re past high school.” 

“I do.” Villanelle says, standing taller. “This young, movie heartthrob that has women everywhere screaming team Edmund.”

“Edward.”

“Whatever.” Villanelle flaps a hand then looks around. “I’m thirsty, putting on this glittery lotion was exhausting. I was very thorough.”

She heads towards the dining table, covered in bottles and pitchers, Eve trailing behind her. 

“Everywhere?” Eve asks. “Why bother? We can only see parts of you.”

Villanelle rounds on her with a smirk, bottle of uncapped beer bow in her hand. 

“For you, Eve.” Villanelle says quietly. “Because you will see all of the parts.”

“Oh.” Eve swallows. Her eyes flit over Villanelle, dipping into the sparkling cleavage for a second too long. “That’s- okay.”

Villanelle nods. 

“Okay.” She agrees with a grin, her sharp incisors flashing once more. 

Eve focuses on them. 

“How did you get the fangs to stick?”

“Nail glue.” 

Eve laughs, topping up her wine as Villanelle leans beside her against the table. 

“Very funny,” Eve drawls.

Villanelle tilts her head. 

“I am not kidding. Is nail glue not good?”

“Oh god.”

—— 

Two hours later and the house is full. 

People in all sorts of get up fill every room, Gemma’s various Halloween activities proving more popular than Eve had expected. She thinks it might have something to do with Villanelle getting a lot of the guests riled up over apple bobbing, shouting claims that her permanently glued in fangs would give her the upper hand in beating everyone. Eve had some concerns. 

“But your makeup.” She’d said. “Your glitter!”

“Aw,” Villanelle kissed Eve’s cheek, “you will never understand the magic of a really good setting spray.”

After crushing several people at apple bobbing, Villanelle is pulled into a conversation with a zombie cheerleader and a bear, both on the legal team for the new publishing company Gemma had started at a year ago, leaving Eve to entertain herself a little and make some friends. 

She’s been chatting with one of Gemma’s friends for a while, an older guy who works at another London newspaper, when she feels a familiar hand touch at her waist. The man smiles politely and nods at the person behind her, then slips back into the crowd of party goers as Eve turns. 

“Have you ever thought about having sex with a vampire?”

Villanelle’s hand curls tighter around Eve’s waist as she smirks, red eyes boring into her own. Eve shrugs casually. 

“Yeah, all the time.”

Villanelle visibly pauses. 

“Oh. You are not supposed to say that.”

“What am I supposed to say?” Eve laughs, tugging Villanelle slightly closer by her belt loops. 

“You are supposed to say ‘no’.”

“Oh, okay.” Eve nods. “Ask again.”

Villanelle rolls her shoulders back and stands confidently again, giving her shoulders a little shake as Eve suppresses a smile. 

“Have you ever thought about having sex with a vampire before?”

Eve flashes wide, playfully innocent eyes. 

“No, no I haven’t.”

Then Villanelle leans in. 

“Would you like to?”

She smells like bergamot and smoky wood, seduction embodied as her voice drifts softly past Eve’s ear. Eve feels herself flush warmly but fights it down, biting her lip against a grin. 

“Would I like to think about it? Or do it?”

Villanelle leans back, confused. 

“What?”

“You said ‘would I like to’ when asking whether or not I thought about it. So, are you asking if I’d like to  _ think _ about having sex with a vampire? Or if I’d like to actually  _ have _ sex with a vampire?”

Villanelle stares at her. 

“It is like you do not want to be romanced, Eve.”

She can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of her, and she pulls on Villanelle’s hips when the blonde tries to move away. 

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding,” Eve chuckles, “don’t go.”

The pout on Villanelle’s dark lips is even more exaggerated with the press of sharp fangs behind them. 

“You are mean.”

“I know,” Eve nods with a smile, “I’m sorry. Can I have another try?”

Villanelle’s sulky shrug has Eve laughing again, holding Villanelle close to her as she wraps her arms around her neck loosely, gazing up into crimson eyes. 

“I would like to have sex with a vampire.” She says lowly, pleased when Villanelle’s playful frown shifts into something sharper, something focussed. “One vampire in particular, actually.”

“Lucky them.” Villanelle purrs. 

“No,” Eve shakes her head, “lucky me.”

“Lucky us.” Villanelle whispers into Eve’s neck. Her lips hover over her pulse point, brushing there softly with each word. “I’m glad you like the outfit, Eve.”

“Are you kidding? I more than like it. You look…”

“I look…?” Villanelle drawls, kissing lightly along the stretch between Eve’s neck and shoulder. Eve nudges Villanelle gently, leaning back just slightly until she can look at her. Eve sighs quietly. Villanelle’s eyes darken behind the lenses. 

“ _ So _ fucking good.”

Villanelle’s breath leaves her in a soft huff. She looks down at Eve’s body, gaze tracing the curves wrapped in tight material, fingers holding posessively at her hips. When she glances back up, Eve is trapped in a hungry, red stare. 

“I’m actually really into the red eyes.” Eve murmurs. 

With a wink, Villanelle smirks. 

“Mm, I knew you would be.”

“So, you’re the human blood sucking kind of vampire then?”

“What?”

“The red eyes.” Eve tells her, one hand coming to run gently through blonde locks at the back of Villanelle’s neck. “Vampires with red eyes in Twilight are the kind that hunt people. The ‘vegetarians’ have gold eyes. Like Edward.”

Villanelle narrows her eyes in thought. 

“Oh.”

“Wow,” Eve chuckles, “you really didn’t pay attention to those movies, did you.”

“No, obviously. I was with you. I could barely think of anything else.”

It’s sweet and sultry all at once, leaving Eve warm. Villanelle must sense the shift because she slides one hand up from Eve’s hip to her lower back, holding her, pressing her closer still. Eve shivers from the attention. 

“Oh?” Eve manages. “And what did you think about me?”

“You want me to tell you here?” Villanelle murmurs with a delighted smile. “Eve, we are in  _ public _ .” 

Eve nuzzles lightly into Villanelle’s jaw. 

“Mm,” she hums, “tell me.”

Villanelle is as direct as ever, a trait Eve had found attractive from the beginning. 

“I thought about how close you were sitting, how I wanted to pull you into my lap and touch you.” Villanelle tightens her hold on Eve, the loud sounds of the party fading to background noise. “I thought about how hot I felt sitting so close to you, and whether you felt the same.”

Despite the public setting, Eve can’t help but tighten her grip slightly in Villanelle’s hair as the woman all but purrs in her ear. 

“What else?” She husks, feeling Villanelle shiver slightly as Eve’s words brush the warming skin of her neck. 

“I thought about sliding my hands into your hair, I thought about kissing you, biting your lip, your jaw, your collarbone.” Eve feels Villanelle’s hand on her back start to shift slowly downwards, slowly, slowly. “I thought about pressing you into the couch, I thought about slipping my fingers into your underwear and into your-”

“Girls! Let’s take a selfie!”

Gemma comes at them with her phone and an oblivious smile, and Eve seriously considers cutting off their friendship, no questions asked. 

Before she can tell the woman to piss off, Villanelle pulls away from Eve and slings an arm around her shoulders. She grins at Gemma, amusement in her eye when Eve catches it grumpily. 

“Okay,” Villanelle says, “here, next to Eve.”

As Gemma squishes herself into Eve’s side to fit them into the frame of her phone camera, Villanelle stands behind Eve. She feels her jaw rest lightly at the back of her shoulder, lips creeping dangerously close to her neck. 

“Right, look scary!” 

Eve doesn’t have to fake an open mouthed look for the photo, not when Villanelle presses the points of her fangs into Eve’s neck with gentle pressure. 

It doesn’t hurt, far from it. The fangs aren’t exactly sharp to the touch, but they’re  _ there _ , and Villanelle  _ knows _ what the whole vampire thing does for her, and biting in general. So, Eve gasps.

“Ah, that’s such a good pic!” Gemma cheers when she brings her phone to her face, eyes scanning over the picture. Eve takes a look at it as Gemma coos. 

Villanelle is all sleek edges and sparkling skin in the photo, red eyes gleaming especially dark in the scarlet glow of the room. Her mouth sits over Eve’s throat with the two white fangs evident and pressed into her neck, a smirk curling the corners of her lips as she bites while staring into the camera. 

Eve… well. Eve looks more  _ shocked _ than shocking, eyes wide and mouth agape in reaction. To Gemma, she probably looks like she’s trying to act scared. To Eve and Villanelle, she’s clearly… pleasantly surprised. 

“You look cute, Gemma.” Villanelle says from somewhere behind Eve, long arms wrapping around her waist as she talks to their friend. “You make a good cat.”

“Oh my god, if I was an animal-” starts Gemma, but Eve tunes her out. Villanelle’s fingertips are tracing a path, small and slow, along her hip bone. 

Eve is learning that there’s a downside to thin, skin tight material.

Villanelle’s touch feels hot, almost like the costume’s layer doesn’t sit between her fingertips and Eve’s hip. The stroke is steady but it dips, bordering on inappropriate, too close to where it shouldn’t be while standing in a room full of people. It sends warmth between her thighs. 

Jesus Christ, Gemma is  _ still _ talking. 

“-obviously not taking part in the costume competition, I’ll be counting everyone’s votes instead.” Gemma is saying when Eve tunes back in.

“It wouldn’t matter anyway,” Villanelle says, fingers still treacherous against Eve, “I will be winning it.”

“Hey,” Eve says, turning to frown at the blonde, “who says I won’t win?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Villanelle’s smiles in amusement, “it is cute that you think you could beat me.”

Eve takes a step away from Villanelle, the other woman’s fingers turning in time to hold onto her hip with an outstretched arm. 

“ _ Excuse _ me?”

“Uh, I’m just going to...” and then Gemma is gone, darting away in Eve’s peripheral to a tall blonde guy dressed as superman. 

“I think that is the Samuel that she fancies.” Villanelle says in thought. 

Eve rolls her eyes impatiently. 

“Is there anyone that woman doesn’t fancy?” She fixes Villanelle with a glare. “Anyway, rude? I might beat you, my costume is pretty good.”

“It is more than pretty good, Eve.” Villanelle slowly drags Eve back towards her then links her fingers at the small of the brunette’s back. “It was fantastic. But you cannot win on sex appeal alone.”

“I wasn’t banking on winning it by sex appeal.” Eve argues. “I look spooky! It’s a skeleton, c’mon.”

“ _ Spooky _ !” Villanelle laughs. “Sure, very spooky.”

“Well, how are  _ you _ planning on winning it?”

“Simple,” Villanelle shrugs, “a mix of the clever, original and niche idea behind the costume, my  _ own _ sex appeal, and my best intimidation face.”

“You’re going to intimidate people into letting you win?” Eve dead pans with a scoff, but she swallows when Villanelle turns that intimidating face on her. 

“If I remember correctly,” Villanelle murmurs, hand trailing slowly up Eve’s back to coil a curl around her finger, “you are a fan of my intimidation techniques.”

“I-”

“You like it when I command a room.” Villanelle continues, sliding more of her hand into Eve’s hair and tugging gently. “You like it when I am the boss.”

The warmth from before flushes through Eve again as she watches Villanelle smirk, and she can’t help her own hands from reaching out to touch some part of the woman. They settle against her front, palms resting softly, carefully, against Villanelle’s abdomen. 

“So I think…” Villanelle dips her head, brushes her lips by Eve’s ear, “I think you will like to watch me use my… intimidation face.”

“You play dirty.” Eve murmurs, her own lips touching at Villanelle’s cheek. 

“No, Eve,” she whispers with a low chuckle, “I know how to use what I have.”

And although heat settles thickly between her thighs, Eve also feels a spark of her competitive streak flare. Sure, Villanelle has the fierce, unmovable woman vibe about her, but Eve has game too! She’ll prove it. If Villanelle is going to accuse her of trying to use her sex appeal then she’ll damn well use her sex appeal. 

“You’re not the only one who knows how to do that.” She husks, before kissing Villanelle’s cheek with a dramatic smack and slipping easily from her relaxed grip. Villanelle gapes a little but lifts an eyebrow, impressed. 

Eve takes a second to hope that what she’s about to do won’t cock things up monumentally, but Villanelle seems to be in a playful mood. It’ll probably be fine. 

She glances over her shoulder to make sure the blonde is still watching, before heading towards a stunning black woman dressed up as an 80s aerobics instructor refilling her drink at the dining table. She adds a swish to her hips, feeling reddened hazel eyes locked to the sway.

The plan is to flirt. Flirt with this woman, show Villanelle that she can use what she has, that Villanelle isn’t the only one who can, and maybe persuade this woman to vote for Eve’s costume to top it off. 

The woman in question smiles brightly as Eve approaches. 

“Hi there.” Eve says, stopping next to her. The woman looks relieved. 

“Oh, thank god, someone to talk to.” She says quickly, flashing a wide grin. “Hiya, I’m Elena.”

“Eve.” Eve replies politely with her best charming smile, looking down at the table to make a drink and forcing herself to not look back at the blonde she hopes is watching, watching her use her sex appeal on a stranger for a stupid costume contest. 

“So,” Elena says happily, “who do you know here, Eve? I’m a right Billy-no-mates tonight. I live next door. My housemate Amber is supposed to be here but she’s an actual idiot and double booked herself, and of course I’d already told Gemma I’d come to this and she’d got all excited, you know what Gemma’s like.” Elena pauses in her fast talking. “Wait, do you know Gemma? Or are you, like, a guest of a guest.”

“Yeah, I do,” Eve nods, “she’s… my, friend?”

Elena narrows her eyes in confusion.

“Why did you say that weird?”

Eve laughs before sipping her drink. This Elena is actually pleasant, she gives off a warm and friendly feel. Eve wishes she’d spoken to her earlier, not under the guise of a weird payback plan. 

“It’s a long story.”

“Look around, babe,” Elena says, waving her hand, “I have time and literally no one else to talk to. No offence.”

“I, uh, I don’t want to get into it just now. It’s boring.” Eve dismisses. She takes a breath then and steps the tiniest bit closer to Elena. “Anyway, you are gorgeous.”

Elena preens, her beaming smile in full effect. 

“Aw, thanks!”

She doesn’t blush, doesn’t shy away. This woman is confident. Eve presses on.

“Like seriously, beautiful. Everything. All of this.” Eve waggles a finger up and down Elena’s body, whose smile dims a bit and slides into something part amused, part suspicious. Eve suddenly feels awkward. 

“Um-”

“Amazing. Fantastic.” Eve should stop now, Elena is looking more amused by the second, but her mouth runs on, “And the  _ costume.  _ Hoo… mama.”

Eve has never said hoo mama before in her life, and for good reason. 

_ Jesus _ . 

“Sorry,” Elena laughs shortly, eyebrows furrowed, “are you trying to flirt with me?”

Eve steps closer again, puts on her best bedroom eyes. 

“That depends. Is it working?”

“No, not at all.”

_ Well, great.  _

“Oh.” Eve says, shoulders slumping in defeat. Damn it, she should have picked a guy, they’re so much easier. Elena is grinning again now, shaking her head. 

“You are so awkward.”

“Okay.” Eve rolls her eyes. 

“Seriously,” Elena is practically giddy now, “that was maybe the worst come on I’ve ever experienced.”

“Rub salt in the wound, why don’t you.” Eve mumbles, staring anywhere but at Elena. What was supposed to be a quick moment of proving Villanelle she had some level of game has quickly spiralled into a beating for her self-esteem. She takes a big step back. “Okay. Well, thank you, Elena, it was nice meeting-”

“Wait wait wait, hang on,” Elena chuckles, “I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered. You’re lovely looking, Eve, but I’m more a fan of the sausage rather than the sausage wallet.”

That halts Eve in her attempt at escape, and she laughs through a grimace. 

“Did you just call a vagina a sausage wallet?”

Elena shrugs happily before her eyes dart to something past Eve’s shoulder. 

“Why are you trying it on with me, anyway? Aren’t you with the sparkly blonde?”

“Why, is she looking?” Eve says in a rush, straightening her dejected shoulders. 

“Yeah.” Elena nods with a speedy glance. 

“How does she look?”

Elena purses her lips in thought. 

“Furious.”

Eve gives the air a tiny fist bump in front of her, hidden from Villanelle’s view. 

“Perfect.”

“Wait.” Elena frowns, leaning back. “Are you just using me? Was all of  _ that _ bullshit?”

Eve looks at the woman and gives her a crooked, guilty smile. 

“Uh… yes?”

Elena glares, glances behind Eve once more, then gives her an expectant look. 

“I’m sorry!” Eve starts to babble. “But she thinks she can win the costume competition through sheer intimidation using her dominating lawyer facade and she said there’s no way I can beat her and I just wanted to prove that I have game too, y’know? I may not be commanding like her but I can be charming! I can flirt and be cute and she’s so smug when she’s like this, which is super hot, but I want to be able to prove that-”

“Stop,” Elena cuts her off with a raised hand. Eve clamps her mouth shut until Elena waves the same hand impatiently “...well, come on then! Put more effort into it. You should have told me this was a set up to begin with, I’m great at these.”

Eve blinks. 

“What?”

“You look like you’re just talking to a friend.” Elena huffs. “Put some oomph into it! Touch my arm, laugh,  _ something _ .” 

“I don’t-”

“You’ve never done this before have you.” Elena sighs pityingly. “Alright, look, just... lean a little closer like you’re saying something quietly. Like a secret.”

With more trust than she should have in a person she’s just met, Eve leans forward. 

Elena bursts into tinkling laughter. 

“Oh my gosh, Eve you are so funny!” Elena downright  _ giggles _ before dropping her voice into a whisper, “okay now run your hand through your hair, drag it out.”

Eve does as she’s told, and watches as Elena watches the movement with an exaggerated bite of her lip. It’s almost comical to Eve, the performance so blatantly fake, but then Elena’s eyes widen. 

“Jesus, your missus is scary.” She mumbles, taking a step back. 

Before Eve can respond, an arm is slinking around her, a hand settling tightly, possessively, on her waist. 

“Eve,” Villanelle says in a low, smooth tone meant to make others cower, “who is your friend?”

“Um, Villanelle, this is Elena.”

“Hey,” Elena says casually, but Eve can see the nervousness in her eyes, “I’m Elena, I live-”

“I don’t care.” Villanelle cuts her off, rounding on Eve. “Can I talk to you?”

And with that, Villanelle is guiding Eve away from the woman, not forceful but making it clear that Eve should probably just go with her. 

“Vil, I’m-”

Villanelle shakes her head, mouth set in a straight line. It’s not one Eve sees too often, and when she does it’s usually directed at a case. Eve swallows, heat rippling from where Villanelle’s fingers rest. 

They walk into the kitchen, Villanelle’s hand sliding to Eve’s lower back as they step around people and head to the back door. Villanelle opens it and lets Eve leave first, fingers finding her hip again as soon as they’re out. 

The garden is spacious and full of flower beds, and at the end stands a large oak tree with thick, gnarled roots. It’s very picturesque and very Gemma, right down to the wooden swing she for some reason has hanging from a low branch. Villanelle guides them to the tree and just as Eve is about to protest a late night swing, Villanelle nudges her behind the wide trunk. 

“What are you-”

Eve is cut off by lips on hers. 

Villanelle is at once incessant with her kiss, movements firm as she presses Eve into the rough bark, one hand sliding to both cradle her head from the wood and tangle in her curls.

Even in the cold late October air, Eve feels her body flush hot, skin prickling beneath the material of her costume as Villanelle’s mouth is relentless against her own. She moans quietly when Villanelle’s other hand holds tight at her hip, the feeling of the blonde bucking into her sending Eve’s hands to fist in the soft material of her shirt. Villanelle’s chest heaves below her hands. 

“What do you think you are playing at?” Villanelle growls into her lips. 

Eve loves possessive Villanelle. The first time the blonde got jealous like this, Eve had actively encouraged her reaction, loving the way Villanelle held her tighter and took her rougher. It’s mostly for show, but it’s hot nonetheless. 

“I-”

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Villanelle bites at Eve’s lip quickly, careful to avoid catching her on her fangs. “Are you trying to hurt me?”

“I didn’t-” Eve starts, 

Villanelle cuts her off with a gentle tug on her hair. 

“Oh, Eve,” Villanelle murmurs, the hand on Eve’s hip sliding up, nails skipping across her rib cage through the tight polyester, “I am  _ very _ unhappy with you.”

Eve swallows hard. 

“She-”

“You really think you can charm your way into getting votes for the costume competition. Well, I have news for you; I am going to win.”

Eve pauses, the frenzied spell breaking. 

“What?”

“You think you can beat me.” Villanelle says again, tugging on Eve’s hair again. “You will not steal this win from me.”

“Wait,  _ that’s _ what you’re mad about?”

Villanelle stares at her. 

“Obviously?”

“Oh, for-” Eve rolls her eyes despite the heat still prickling over her skin from Villanelle’s tight hold, “so you’re not jealous that I was flirting with Elena?”

“Who?”

“The woman back there!”

“Oh,” Villanelle’s shrugs, nonplussed, “no? Are you sure you were flirting with her? She is straight, Eve, you can tell.”

“Yes, I was flirting with her!” Eve huffs. “I was trying to flirt my way into a vote!”

“Ha!” Villanelle cries victoriously. “I knew it, you  _ were _ trying to secure votes. Oh, you are a sneaky one, Eve.”

“Why are you not annoyed that I was flirting?”

“Well, firstly, because I didn't know it was flirting. You are not very good at it. Secondly, because now I know you only did it for a vote, not because you wanted to fuck her.”

Eve grumbles as she lets go of Villanelle’s shirt, folding her arms in a sulk, Villanelle immediately takes Eve’s wrists and presses them into the tree trunk above her shoulders. Her breath catches as Villanelle’s eyes narrow dangerously. 

“Ah ah,” Villanelle warns, “I am still mad at you. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“Completely. We are not going back inside until you promise not to interfere and let me win like I deserve.”

“I’m not promising that.” Eve scoffs, testing her hands against the trunk. They’re held tight. “If you get to intimidate people then I get to charm them.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” murmurs Eve, leaning forwards as much as her trapped hands allow. 

“You like it when I tell you what to do.” Villanelle fires back, smirking, inching her own face closer. 

Eve’s next breath is sharp, because yeah, she does like that. Villanelle wasn’t wrong when she accused Eve of liking her intimidating face; Eve loves when Villanelle is in charge, when she’s fierce and commanding. Eve opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes. 

Villanelle lifts one eyebrow. 

“That’s what I thought.” She whispers, before sealing their lips together once more. 

The heat is instant. 

Villanelle’s hands keep Eve’s wrists pinned to the tree and the rough bark only adds to what Eve is feeling, the slight scrape causing the kind of sparks only a little pain can. 

A quiet but gasping moan leaves Villanelle when Eve bucks her hips forward, and the blonde presses closer still. Their movements are rushed and messy, lips meeting hastily between ragged breaths. Villanelle gives Eve’s wrists one more tight squeeze then drops them, her hands immediately finding the flushed skin of Eve’s neck then sliding down to her shoulders. Eve’s own hands head for Villanelle’s ass and she tugs, bringing the blonde forward onto her thigh and causing a strong, toned leg to slip between hers with the motion. 

“Not that I’m complaining,” Eve gasps after a particular hard thrust onto Villanelle’s thigh, “but what’s happening?”

“We are making out against a tree.”

“Helpful,” Eve manages, “but I meant… are you mad? Is this angry kissing? Am… am I mad?”

Villanelle sighs and presses her forehead to Eve’s. 

“Okay.” Villanelle says, voice controlled but not disguising the slight shake. “No one is actually mad. I am fake mad at you for trying to get votes to beat me, you are fake mad at me because I said you can’t, you are also maybe fake mad at me because I’m not jealous of your fake flirting, I’m fake mad at-”

“Okay you know what, never mind.” Eve groans impatiently, biting Villanelle’s lower lip. The hiss from the blonde makes her throb. 

“To summarise,” Villanelle gets out quickly, “no one is mad but we are both horny and this tree is right here.”

“That’s a good enough reason. Can we pretend we’re a little mad?”

Villanelle chuckles darkly against Eve’s lips. 

“Because I know you like it when I’m possessive,” Villanelle purrs, “yes, we can.”

“Awesome.” Eve sighs, rocking her hips firmly against Villanelle once more. “Tell me what to do.”

“The irony.” Villanelle smiles genuinely for a second, before that imposing look slips back over her face. “Spread your legs.”

Eve does. 

The hands at her shoulders slip to behind her neck and find the snap button fastening of her costume, popping it open without hesitation. Eve shivers at the touch of fingertips on heated skin, then moans quietly as the sound of an opening zip fills the air. She hears the party as background static, the only noise she can focus on the sound of her costume sliding down and Villanelle’s heavy breathing mixing with her own. 

“We have to be quick.” Villanelle murmurs as she shoves Eve’s costume to her waist, revealing her bra clad chest to the dark outdoors. “And quiet.”

Eve nods quickly, hips rocking again against Villanelle in an increasingly desperate pace until warm hands cup over her breasts, her hardened nipples pressing tightly into the lace of her bra as Villanelle squeezes, her touch rough. 

It’s only been a few minutes, but Eve  _ wants _ . 

“Will you touch me?” Eve pleads against Villanelle’s lips. The blonde moans softly. 

“Out here?” 

“I need it.” Eve nods. “Need you. The glitter has clouded my rationality.”

With a breathless chuckle, Villanelle drags one hand downwards, scraping goosebumps into Eve’s skin that have nothing to do with the outside chill. Her hand reaches the rumpled costume at her waist and slips underneath, pressing lower, pressing-

“Fuck,” Villanelle grunts, “you’re wet.”

“It’s the stupid suit and the red eyes.” Eve breathes, head dropped back against the tree as fingertips swipe firmly over her swollen clit through damp cotton. “And the, the…”

“The teeth?” 

Eve can hear the smirk in Villanelle’s voice but doesn’t have the coordination to look back up and glare. 

Her whimper says everything, and Villanelle chuckles before leaning forward and nuzzling her face into Eve’s neck. 

“I wonder if these will leave marks.” Villanelle muses, and before Eve can even think, two hard points sink into her neck. 

“Oh  _ shit _ ,” Eve moans, far too loudly, “fuck, do it again, please.”

Another bite digs into her skin, not enough to break it but enough for Eve to almost  _ feel _ the bruises that will come later. She whines again, hands scrabbling at Villanelle’s shirt for something to hold onto as pain prickles from her neck straight to her clit. 

“Quiet, Eve,” Villanelle sing-songs softly, teasingly, into her neck, “or I will stop.”

Even with her lips clamped tight together, Eve can’t stop the whine in her throat as Villanelle’s fingers slide beneath her underwear. 

She’s slick between her thighs, hot and wet as Villanelle circles her clit before dipping lower and pushing inside, no pause or preamble. Eve whines again, loud and high, but the heat only builds as Villanelle’s free hand moves to cover her mouth. 

“I said,” Villanelle warns, “ _ quiet _ .”

It’s said in her lawyer voice, her court voice, and Eve’s legs feel weak. Two long fingers pick up speed as they thrust in and out of her, the heel of her palm rubbing Eve’s sensitive clit with each push and pull. Eve tries to stay quiet, swallowing moans as Villanelle pants into her neck, but the firm press of the hand over her lips tempts her into making more noise, wanting it pressed tighter. 

It’s when Villanelle is grinding into the back of her own moving hand, seemingly unaware of herself, that Eve feels it start. 

“Don’t stop,” Eve begs, muffled, “don’t-”

“Spread your legs wider,” Villanelle says into her neck, biting hard as Eve follows her order, “fuck, that’s it.”

“Baby, please.”

Two fingers become three. They pound into Eve, bordering on painful but on the right side of perfect. Villanelle’s hand lifts from Eve’s mouth and rests on the tree to keep herself upright, letting her add more force as she drives into Eve’s soaking cunt. 

And it is soaking. Eve can feel how wet she is, can feel it on her thighs and underwear and she can’t even spare a moment to think about whether her costume is okay because it’s building, the heat and the pressure is building-

“I’m-” Eve tries, because Villanelle loves when she vocalises it, “fuck-”

“Come,” Villanelle orders desperately, “now, Eve.”

Eve knows she drenches Villanelle’s hand when the orgasm hits. This evening with her costume and the teasing and the possessive attitude, it’s all come together in a way that causes Eve’s arousal to spill over Villanelle’s fingers as she moans, loudly, uncaring. 

When Eve finally catches her breath it’s to the feel of a flushed Villanelle kissing her neck, desperately. . 

“Shit,” Eve says in a rush, tugging Villanelle’s shirt out of her trousers with shaking hands, “you, let me- I want to-”

Villanelle’s needy moan is cut off by a shout. 

“Calling all party goers!” A chipper male voice rings out, echoing in the garden through an open back window. “The costume competition is drawing to a close, have you all voted?”

“Eve!” Villanelle says, suddenly loud and popping Eve’s lusty haze bubble. “We have not voted! We need to go.”

“Are…” Eve starts, shaking her head to try to clear the lingering heavy arousal. “Are you serious? Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” Villanelle says as she wipes her hand on her back pocket and tucks her shirt back in, “come on! I need people to see me one last time to secure my win.”

“You  _ are _ serious.” Eve’s head thuds against the tree in defeat. “So you’d rather win this dumb competition than get fucked against a tree by your hot skeleton girlfriend?”

Villanelle stares at her with wide eyes. 

“Please do not make me answer that, Eve.”

“Oh for god’s sake.” Eve grumbles. She pulls her costume back up and turns around, Villanelle zipping and fastening it immediately. “You’re an idiot.”

“I am a winner, you mean,” Villanelle says as she grabs Eve’s hand and directs them back towards the house, kissing her cheek through a smug smile, “a winner.”

——

“And the winner is… Barry!”

Everyone scattered throughout the living room breaks out into applause, so only Eve hears the gasp of indignation that comes from Villanelle. She grins, turning to the blonde in amusement. 

“Huh. Well, sweetheart, I guess neither of us won.”

Villanelle seethes, and it only makes Eve smile wider. Barry, sweet random Barry, steps up in front of the mantlepiece to get his bottle of lime green schnapps from Gemma. What a prize. 

“What is he even supposed to be?” Villanelle growls. 

Eve tilts her head in thought as she studies him, a ‘table’ and tablecloth where his shoulders and torso should be, adorned with your usual bedside table bits and a lampshade on his head. 

“Oh,” Eve says as it clicks, “he’s  _ one _ night stand. One night stand! That’s clever.”

“That is dumb.” Villanelle says coldly. “Excuse me.”

Eve grabs Villanelle’s wrist as the woman starts to storm through the crowd, effectively yanking her back. 

“Get back here.” Eve chuckles. “You are such a sore loser.”

Eve whirls around, folding her arms and staring at Eve sulkily with wide eyes. 

“I do not lose!” Villanelle insists. “I win! I win and I crush and I score.”

Eve purses her lips to stop herself laughing. 

“You score, huh?”

“Yes!” Villanelle is too wrapped up in whatever dramatic meltdown she’s having to notice Eve stepping into her personal space. 

“Okay,” Eve says slowly, reaching out a hand to play with a button on Villanelle’s shirt, “so how about we ditch this party and I’ll let you score at home.”

Villanelle’s performance halts, eyes darting between Eve’s. 

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” Eve hums. She walks her fingers slowly up the buttons, pausing when her fingertip meets cleavage. “A different sort of win.”

“I am reconsidering the best kind of win,” Villanelle calms at Eve’s touch, capturing Eve’s hand at her chest and bringing it to her lips. She brushes a kiss against her knuckles. “I should not have made us leave the tree.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

“Are you mad?” Villanelle asks, only half serious, eyes already dropping to scan Eve’s body with a new hunger. 

“Oh yeah.” Eve nods, smiling playfully. “You opted for this,” Eve waves a finger around to indicate the room before pointing at herself, “over this.” 

Villanelle puts on a solemn pout. 

“A grave mistake,” she whispers before cracking a smile, “get it? Grave? Because you are a skeleton.”

“Nerd,” Eve scoffs, hooking a finger into the gap in Villanelle’s shirt and gently pulling her closer, “so, did you really put glitter  _ everywhere _ ?”

“Everywhere safe,” Villanelle wraps her arms around Eve’s waist, “but it transfers easily so it might have rubbed off by now. A lot of it seems to be on you.”

Eve freezes. 

“What?”

“You are covered.” Villanelle says like it’s obvious. She nods at Eve’s neck. “There is glitter all over your neck and costume. Did you not realise?”

“Oh Jesus,” Eve mumbles, rubbing at her skin with a hand and groaning when it comes away glittery, “great, it could not be more obvious that we were… canoodling.” Eve goes to rub her hand on her leg, but sees that her black costume is also completely dusted in gold. “Christ, this shit gets everywhere.”

Villanelle laughs. 

“You should see our bedroom.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“I thought you liked the sparkle!” Villanelle implores, guiding Eve to the door. “Our whole room is a Twilight vampire. Sexy!”

“That is not how it works and you know it.”

“Fine, fine,” Villanelle huffs. She stops them by the door, grabbing their jackets from the crowded coat rack. “I will vaccuum and change the sheets, we shower, and then we can have sex?”

The thought of Villanelle cleaning before sex is… not a great one, right now. Plus, the glitter is nice on Villanelle’s skin. And might look nice on Eve’s.  _ Two _ vampires, rolling around in immortal ecstasy, skin twinkling-

“Well, I mean,” Eve starts, throat suddenly a little dry, “let’s not get silly. It’s late and, and we’re both covered anyway, and-”

“And...” Villanelle cuts in with a smirk, “sparkly sex?”

Eve stares into deep red eyes, and watches as the light glints off a sharp white fang. Her breath catches as Villanelle winks. 

Eve never stood a chance. 

When Villanelle opens the door, Eve practically drags her out. 

“Sparkly sex.”

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I need to remind certain people that QPQ is mine. I made it up! I borrowed the characters and moulded them into slight variations of the real deal. Villanelle is not a lawyer in the show, did you know that?? Wild. Anyway, QPQ is mine, it is a work of fiction, and I can do whatever the hell I want with it and its characters. Do not make me turn off anonymous comments again, you little cry babies. 
> 
> To the rest of you, I hope you enjoyed this! Major thanks to Dina for helping me out with it a bunch!


End file.
